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The best beef marrow also happens to be far and away the best late-night meal ever

By Elian Zach

ust when I was about to formally change New York's title from "The City That Never Sleeps" to "Sleepytown," I found hope in the form of a delicious cardiac arrest.

At 2:30 a.m. on a Thursday night, I was walking with my man around the cold streets of SoHo, looking for a place to eat. Our three-hour long disco nap, from which we woke at 11 p.m., left us both wired and starving, and after two shots of overpriced tequila at a club full of douchebags, all we wanted was to have an amazing meal and gaze into each other's candlelit eyes. Not too much to ask for in the greatest city in the world, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, "open late" is an incredibly subjective term. We were turned away from four different self-proclaimed "open late" joints, and my sexy strut was becoming increasingly painful to watch, as my cheap, yet beautiful, high-heeled booties started to betray me.

My man, a resourceful and devoted foodie and chef, knew all too well that our night couldn't possibly end with a grilled cheese and a side of misery at some dingy diner. He was so eager to fulfill my insatiable craving for something of the "best I've ever had" variety, that I couldn't decide whether his determination was more adorable or exhausting. I was about to accept my cereal in almond milk fate, when he suddenly gave me a knowing smile, squeezed my hand lightly, and said, "Oh, I know. I know."

We walked a few blocks over to Sullivan between Spring and Prince, and entered Blue Ribbon Brasserie. I hadn't been there in years and forgot it even existed. We ordered a bunch of delicious dishes from their classic and extensive menu, which they serve in full until 4 a.m.seven nights a week. After scarfing down grilled sardines with anchovy spread, steak tartare, matzo ball soup, and a great deal of bread and butter, we realized that one of the dishes had yet to arrive. When it finally did, we were far from hungry, which only proved how amazing it really was, because we finished the whole thing.

Beef Marrow and Oxtail Marmalade

Where do I begin? The marrow was smooth and buttery, and each bone had a generous amount of it hidden inside. The braised oxtail marmalade was subtly sweet and had the caressing texture that only a good long braising process can accomplish. The fried parsley garnish added a fresh and crispy twist, while the sel-gris (grey salt) brought it home, uniting the different elements on a beautifully toasted brioche, crunchy and slightly burnt on the outside and soft and spongy on the inside. In short, a delicate collage of flavors that equaled a truly perfect bite.